Edward watched the monster "spring" up from the floor and casually pluck a bullet from his chest, without the slightest surprise on his face.
He had known all along that conventional firearms were little more than children's toys against something like this.
"Interesting."
Edward felt no agitation whatsoever. If anything, he almost wanted to laugh.
Since crossing over into this perilous world of interconnected horror stories, he had encountered either physical powerhouses like Jason or dim-witted psychopaths like those cannibals. Dangerous as they were, they still fell within the realm of things he could understand.
But the Soul-Severing Clown, Art, standing before him was the first enemy besides Dorothy who felt as though he existed outside the "rules."
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Edward wasted no more time testing him.
With a flick of both arms, [Ebony and Ivory] traced graceful arcs in his hands, their muzzles erupting in an unbroken stream of fire.
The advantage of unlimited ammunition came into full play. A dense hail of bullets formed a metal storm, sweeping across every vital point on Art's body.
The bullets tore through the air with precision, burrowing into Art's skull, heart, and limbs.
Each round carried tremendous kinetic force, driving Art backward again and again. Black, bloody holes burst across his body, riddling his ridiculous black-and-white clown suit.
Tara, bound to the chair, and Dewen, hanging upside down, could only stare in complete disbelief.
Their minds could no longer process the impossible scene unfolding before them.
A terrifying clown who slaughtered people without hesitation, and a boy who had appeared out of nowhere and was unleashing a barrage with two pistols-the scene was more insane and unreal than any horror movie they had ever watched.
Under the relentless gunfire, Art's tall frame resembled a battered doll. Finally, he toppled backward and hit the floor with a thud once again.
This time, he had taken at least several dozen rounds. Half his head had been blasted apart, exposing a black, asphalt-like substance beneath.
Yet Edward still did not lower his pistols.
Just as he had expected.
The silence lasted less than three seconds.
The "corpse" on the floor began to writhe eerily again. The ruined half of his head slowly, impossibly drew back together like melted wax.
The bullet holes in his body also filled with black matter at a visible pace.
Then, once again, he rose in a pose that defied human anatomy, his movements at once rigid and fluid.
He tilted his head, seemingly fascinated by the changes in his own body.
He poked a finger at his freshly healed face, then fixed his gaze on Edward again.
The painted grin widened further, as though silently mocking the futility of Edward's efforts.
Physical attacks... are basically ineffective? Edward assessed. Or has his form of existence already transcended that of a mere physical entity?
While Edward was analyzing him, Art seemed to lose patience with this "new toy" that could not damage him.
He abruptly turned his head, directing his hollow gaze back toward the two girls, who were too frightened to make a sound.
For Art, tormenting these weak, helpless souls was where the real fun lay.
He ignored Edward and pulled another new "toy" from the black garbage bag behind him.
It was a rusty bone saw, its teeth still clotted with unidentified dark-red scraps.
Carrying the bone saw, he resumed his strange, halting gait toward Dewen, who was hanging upside down.
He intended to finish his "masterpiece."
"Did I give you permission to move?"
An icy voice sounded behind Art.
Art instinctively looked back.
What greeted him was a fist carrying overwhelming force.
A savage, domineering power surged through Edward's entire body. His muscles swelled almost imperceptibly, filling with explosive strength.
He stepped forward, leaving a faint crack in the concrete beneath his foot. Like a shell fired from a cannon, he crossed more than ten meters in an instant and appeared behind Art.
Edward held nothing back. His fist slammed squarely into Art's back, right behind his heart.
BOOM!
An incredibly deep, muffled crash rang out, like a battering ram striking a city gate.
Before the immense strength granted by the Ox Talisman, Art's towering body was as fragile as paper.
His entire body instantly doubled over like a shrimp and flew off the ground. Like a baseball smashed for a home run, he traced an arc through the air and slammed into the metal wall of a shipping container at the far end of the warehouse.
CRASH!
The thick metal wall was smashed into a massive, human-shaped dent. The surrounding steel framework groaned under the strain.
Art was "plastered" against the wall like a painting, then slowly slid down and hit the floor, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Inside the warehouse, both girls stopped breathing.
They stared at Edward. The boy looked about their age, yet now he radiated a pressure that made their hearts tremble.
Edward shook out his hand, his knuckles cracking sharply.
He did not stop.
The best way to deal with an unkillable monster like this was to never give him another chance to stand up.
He charged again, unleashing a furious storm of attacks on Art, who had just slid to the floor.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Every punch carried the crushing strength of the Ox Talisman.
Every kick could have broken a steel plate.
Edward made no unnecessary movements. It was nothing but the purest, most primal, most violent beating. He grabbed Art's head and smashed it into the floor over and over.
Crater after crater appeared in the hard concrete, sending fragments flying.
Before that absolute strength, Art's body was utterly torn apart and demolished. His arms were twisted into corkscrews, his legs were brutally stomped in two, and his entire chest caved in.
Black, viscous blood splattered everywhere. The cold, foul-smelling liquid stained Edward's clothes and face.
This was no longer a fight, but a one-sided, brutal dismantling.
Yet Edward's expression grew increasingly grave.
Because he could feel that no matter how he destroyed this "body," the sensation beneath his hands never changed.
There was no feeling of bones shattering, no feedback from muscles tearing. It was as though he were beating a mass of tough rubber with a fixed shape.
Most terrifying of all, no matter how badly his body was ruined, the chilling smile on Art's face never changed.
At last, Edward stopped attacking.
Before him lay a shapeless mass of sludge, mingled with shredded cloth and black liquid, no longer recognizable as human.
Edward caught his breath, his Pure Yang Body rapidly replenishing his stamina.
He looked down at the sludge, his brows tightly furrowed.
"It's not over yet."
Sure enough, the sludge began to writhe. Severed limbs and shattered tissue started piecing themselves back together and merging, as though controlled by an invisible hand.
Edward did not give him another opportunity to regroup. He had something more important to do.
He turned to the two girls.
With a thought, two sharp snaps rang out.
The ropes binding Tara and the chains suspending Dewen broke at once.
Dewen fell from midair, but Edward caught her with a gentle current of Telekinesis and lowered her safely to the floor.
Both girls were still in a state of utter terror. Tara slumped limply in her chair, while Dewen curled up on the floor, hugging herself and trembling.
"If you don't want to die, leave now. Run as fast as you can, and don't look back."
Edward's voice held no emotion.
The two girls snapped out of their stupor and scrambled toward the warehouse entrance.
The overwhelming joy of surviving, mixed with the fear still gripping their hearts, drove them to push themselves to their limits.
Edward did not turn to watch them. All his attention was focused on the rapidly reassembling "sludge" behind him.
In less than ten seconds, a completely unharmed Soul-Severing Clown, Art, stood before him once more.
This time, Art did not immediately attack.
He merely stood there with his head tilted, watching Edward.
The smile remained the same, but Edward read something different in it.
It was "appreciation."
He seemed to be praising Edward for being the only person in all this time who had managed to destroy his "toy body" so thoroughly.
Then Art did something unexpected.
Facing Edward, he gave a deep, comically exaggerated bow.
Like a circus performer thanking his audience for their applause.
After bowing, he straightened up and pulled a... trident balloon from his garbage bag.
He inflated the balloon, then bounced around on the spot like a child, holding it in his hand. He even pulled a face at Edward.
The bizarre, absurd, and malicious scene brought the warehouse's atmosphere of horror to its peak.
"Mental attacks? Or are you trying to provoke me?"
Edward's gaze turned utterly cold.
He no longer had the patience to play this game of cat and mouse with the monster.
"Since physical attacks can't destroy you completely..."
Edward slowly raised his right hand, aiming his palm at the clown who was still clowning around.
"Then try this."
A soft, pure white light began gathering in his palm.
The light was not dazzling, yet it carried a sacred, solemn aura that could cleanse all defilement.
Purification!
Before you continue